


Blurred Limes

by PicassoWithAPencil



Category: A Simple Favor (2018)
Genre: AU, Emily is the sass master, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Grocery Shopping, Heavy Angst, Sean basically doesn't exist here, smutty times
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2019-11-14 20:09:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18059234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PicassoWithAPencil/pseuds/PicassoWithAPencil
Summary: Stephanie grabbed hold of her purse, locked her car, and grabbed a cart from an annoying mother of three just as the rain came pouring down.Stephanie had never been good at talking to other moms. She didn’t feel as if there was any reason to start now.They walked in together, the disjointed, single family going first when a sultry, deadpan voice sounded from above over the speaker system.“Welcome to Massey Mart, thanks for bringing your fucking kids.”





	1. Glitter Dicks and Kale Chips

**Author's Note:**

> So I have no idea where this came from, but it exists. It was supposed to be a song fic, and then I watched a movie and got a different idea. I wrote a grocery store AU for a different fandom about three years ago that I never posted and it sucked so I redid it in a much more mature and angst/fluffy way for our girls haha. I haven't attempted a multi-chapter in a long time, so we'll see where this takes us haha. I want to finish this so please give kudos and comments to motivate my lazy ass haha. I really appreciate it. Also, this says a lot about my sense of humor so there you go.

  


Shitty couldn’t even begin to describe Stephanie’s day so far. Not only had Miles’ babysitter canceled out on her at the last minute, and not only did her mother decide to pay a surprise visit, but it was Monday and Stephanie had forgotten to get this upcoming weeks groceries. 

Again.

Stephanie ran her fingers through her disheveled ponytail as she parked her Subaru at the entrance to a run-down supermarket at least ten miles away from her home. The tired brunette reasoned that her excursion was a fair one, considering that she never had a spare moment for herself and that the closer store reminded her too much of both Davis and Chris.

  


She sighed audibly and allowed herself a satisfying headbang on her steering wheel to snap herself out of her grief. She had groceries to get, a little boy to feed, and blog materials to purchase. Stephanie grabbed hold of her purse, locked her car, and grabbed a cart from an annoying mother of three just as the rain came pouring down. The other woman, just as a brunette as she with a haggard expression and dull eyes, glared at her with a surprising fierceness.

Stephanie had never been good at talking to other moms. She didn’t feel as if there was any reason to start now.

  


They walked in together, the disjointed, single family going first when a sultry, deadpan voice sounded from above over the speaker system.

  


_ “Welcome to Massey Mart, thanks for bringing your fucking kids.” _

  


The other brunette looked astonishingly offended, but Stephanie wanted to laugh, a dark chuckle blooming up from the depths of her chest. The scuffle over the system between the speaker and a different woman only made Stephanie’s smile grow twice as wide.

  


_ “How many times do I have to tell you not to screw with the microphone?” _

  


_ “But, Stace-” _

  


_ “Don’t you dare, “but, Stace,” me-” _

  


_ “It was fucking hilar-” _

  


And that was where the conversation ended; with the receiver hung up clumsily and an echo of raucous laughter peeling through the aisles. Stephanie was shaken out of her stupor by a very impatient old man cursing at her to move so he could get to his prunes. The brunette hadn’t even noticed the other family’s absence until this moment and forced herself to snap out of her daze.  _ Maybe those martinis were a bad decision last night,  _ Stephanie groaned inwardly.

  


The fresh vegetable aisle was indeed lacking, and the brunette found herself wishing she had suffered through her grief to get ripe tomatoes. Just as she was sifting through what she assumed was halfway decent romaine lettuce, she heard an argument between a very familiar voice and an unnaturally, high-pitched, male tone. 

  


“Do we look like a fucking Whole Foods to you?” 

  


It was that woman again. Her low, husky timbre sent shivers up Stephanie’s spine. And it didn’t help that she was spouting profanities all over the place.  _ God, I really need to get laid,  _ Stephanie reflected miserably. She didn’t think that her bi side would ever make its way back to the forefront after her marriage. But Davis was dead, Chris dead in the ground beside him, and she a single widow. Apparently, her body wanted to remind her that she always had a number of options before her.

  


For now, she opted to discreetly inspect wretched broccoli stalks while eavesdropping on the conversation between the mystery woman and her high strung customer. 

  


“Your assistant manager specifically said that they were located  _ here,  _ at this very spot!” 

Ah, so he was one of  _ those  _ shoppers — much too picky, and much too veganist for a small store in the middle of nowhere.

  


“Look,  _ asshole _ , I don’t know what that fucking yeast infection told you, but she’s  _ wrong _ . It’s not my fucking fault that my boss doesn’t know what the hell is in our fucking inventory. If it's not too much trouble for you and yours, you can take your tight-ass stripper pants and your soccer mom Prius to the nearest Whole Foods you can find.” 

  


The woman said her piece with grace, sarcasm, and loads of sex appeal. Stephanie had to hold back a laugh and was tempted to turn around when fast, squeaky tennis shoes arrived on the scene. “Emily!” The new female voice was clipped and strangled as if stress and too much caffeine ran the woman's life. 

  


“We have had this discussion time and time again! How hard is it to be polite to a single customer?”

  


_ Emily. _

  


Stephanie wasn’t sure why, but the name seemed to compliment the employees firey spirit and foul mouth. The brunette could practically picture her eye roll as she sighed dramatically. She assumed that Emily had tried to open her mouth again when the assistant manager stopped her. “Let me handle this one,  _ Emily.  _ We’ll be discussing this incident later.” Emily scoffed, and Stephanie assumed that she realized there was no genuine threat behind her superior’s words.

  


Stephanie heard the adjusting of an apron as if the manager was attempting to control herself. “Now, sir, what may I help you find? I must apologize for the nature of my employee. I assure you that we’ll be having a  _ major _ attitude adjustment.” The man was silent for more than a few moments before he finally mustered up the courage to speak. Stephanie smirked as she realized that Emily had most likely scared the shit out of his pompous ass. “I’ve been looking for Hales Organic Kale Chips, and I was told by you that you sell them here.”

  


“Of course we do!” Stephanie could feel the other woman physically turn to face Emily, an idea in her mind. “Emily, why don’t you tell this lovely man where the chips are?” Emily snorted with derision, and Stephanie continued to make her way down towards the despondent-looking carrots to hear more of what was about to take place.

  


“Last I checked,  _ Stacie,  _ you told me to stay out of this. This  _ lovely man _ , as you call him, is perfectly fine in your capable hands.”

  


Stephanie had to jump back to avoid being rammed into the produce as Stacie dragged Emily to a slightly secluded corner. “Listen. I didn’t want to hire you in the first place. Who in their fucking right mind wants to hire a criminal? I didn’t, but the owner of our store did because apparently, you look like Blake Lively, who I assume he drools over in his sleep.

  


“Regardless, no one wants to hire a convicted felon, got it? This job is your last shot at a potential release from probation, and I know you want that. So shape the fuck up and get to it.” Stephanie froze. That woman, that sexy, snarky woman, was a criminal? The brunette was worried that that didn’t surprise her as much as it should have.

  


They must have moved back towards the man, as Stacie announced to him that Emily would gladly show him the way to the chip aisle. Of course, the asshole had to stick his foot in mouth at the wrong moment.

  


“So, will the blonde bitch be cooperating this time? Or do I have to stand here all day and wait for proper, polite service?” Both Stephanie and Stacie stifled a gasp at the same moment, and the brunette knew things were about to go straight to hell.

  


Emily’s voice was tight as she spoke. “Yeah, we sell  _ Hales Organic Kale Chips.  _ They’re on the homosexual hipster aisle next to the recycled toilet paper; you glitter dick.”

  


Stephanie heard an offended gasp as the man stormed out of the store, Stacie rushing after him, pleading with him to wait. It was at that moment she chose to turn around. Her breath caught in the back of her throat and her blood rushed to her lower extremities as well as to her face. The woman, Emily, was strikingly tall, icy blue irises shimmering beneath perfectly sculpted eyebrows. She had to be at least 6’0, and her tall, slender build put any professional model to shame.

  


Unfortunately, Emily noticed her as well. Her eyes narrowed with sadistic amusement, most likely capitalizing on Stephanie’s barely disguised attraction. The blonde sauntered her way over, hips swaying as she moved. Stephanie felt her hands shake with nervousness, despite her steady grip on the cart handle. Emily continued to walk towards her, stalking closer and closer until Stephanie found herself memorizing each tiny freckle on the blonde's cheeks. Emily smirked and leaned in, her breath that smelled of cherries caressing Stephanie's nose and face. “Boo,” she whispered playfully.

  


The brunette couldn’t help but stutter. “I...um...I...hi?” Emily let loose a gorgeous laugh that sent shivers up Stephanie’s spine, and she thought she could glimpse a hint of endearment in the blonde’s gaze. “Why so shy, baby? Haven’t you seen a poster board blonde before?” Stephanie still couldn’t find her words.

  


Emily casually booped her on the nose as Stacie furiously called her name from the front entrance. “You look like a good time, baby. Come visit me again.” She gestured in Stacie’s direction. “Maybe you can help me get that bitch off my back.”

  


As Emily walked away, Stephanie frozen in her wake, she casually called back, “Oh, I almost forgot. Welcome to fucking Massey Mart, baby.”

  


The brunette sighed miserably at her susceptibility to tall, gorgeous women, and she could only thank Emily for helping to reignite the passionate relationship Stephanie had once had with her hand.

  
  
  
  
  



	2. Not-So Perfect Peach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wait? What? It’s here! I’m not dead. I couldn’t let her die, but life got in the way. However, I am determined to finish this. This chapter really focuses on Emily’s characterization and her living and financial situation because we need exposition just for her. Plus, she’s really fun to write haha. Kudos and comments greatly appreciated! They are my lifeblood haha.

“Why do I let you live with me,” a woman with dark hair that sported purple streaks snapped. She was making omelets for the third time in a row that week, considering they had a shit ton of cheese that Emily had stolen from work left, and the stovetop was the only thing that worked. 

Meanwhile, Emily was sprawled out on their plaid couch that smelled of cat piss and was centered in the middle of a living room that had one other chair, a lamp that consistently short circuited, and a TV from the 90’s that neither of them used.

 

“Well, it’s not because you like me,” Emily drawled, throwing a ball of tinfoil in the air. The woman, Sasha, turned and glared at her with unfriendly, gray eyes. “Congratulations, you got something right for once in your fucking life. Give the bitch a prize.” 

The blonde on the couch rolled her eyes at her roommate, growing irritated as the ball hit her on the head.

 

“How did I “screw up” this time, huh?”

 

Sasha let loose a huff of anger as she slammed the omelets and two light beers onto the unbalanced, kitchen table. “I don’t know, Emily.” She paused for dramatic effect. “Oh, wait, yes I do. I got a call from the grocery store-“

 

Emily groaned, completely interrupting. 

”Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Stacie thinks she can run my life, that I’m such a terrible, fucking mess that can’t handle a single-“

 

“Because you can’t,” Sasha growled️, gritting her teeth together. “Jesus Christ, you can’t handle a single goddamn human interaction, can you? You’re acting out like a child, Emily, I shouldn’t be getting calls about your “misbehavior.””

 

Emily stiffened as she sat down at one of the two beach chairs sat at their table.

 

She opened her mouth to argue, but Sasha plowed on, done with the events of that day. “No, you don’t get to talk. Do you not realize that if you get fired from this job, you have a snowball's chance in hell of getting off probation? I don’t know where the hell you came from, but if you weren’t with me-“

 

Emily shot to her feet, eyes blazing and dirty wife beater swinging below her hips. “Fuck you! Fuck you and your half-assed hero complex! You don't know what I’ve done or been through.” Emily swallowed, almost as if it caused her pain to talk.

”I’m not a mangy bitch that you can pick up off the street like a fucking dog! You promised you’d never ask, and I would never bring women home, that’s what we agreed. So don’t bring that shit up again.”

 

Sasha sighed as she cracked open her beer. “I know what I said. And I’m sorry.” She punched Emily in the shoulder, her eyes watery. “I care about you, bitch. I want you to see your son again, he’s a cute little shit.” 

 

Emily rolled her eyes as she dug into her food with a plastic fork. “Hey, that “little shit,” is only six years old.” Sasha shrugged good naturedly. “Whatever. I just want you to see your kid again.”

 

They shared a watery smile, and both women ate in silence for a few moments. 

 

“You know,” Sasha contemplated sarcastically, “Can you maybe steal some shit besides cheese?”

  
  


Emily woke up in a state of annoyance the next morning, ready to start her morning shift at eight. There were two rooms in the shitty apartment Sasha owned; she already worked at run-down McDonald’s herself, and those rooms were the bedroom and the kitchen. 

The public toilet was outside, and there was no shower. This factor paired with her not having time to cook a true breakfast meant she left two hours early via an old Honda so she could hit the gas station shower and get a bite to eat.

 

Of course this gas station was at least forty five minutes away from their apartment.

 

By the time Emily arrived at the store, she was in a shitty mood, with no happiness to speak of. But anyone who knew her, regardless of her personality, were aware of her punctuality. 

Despite her front, the blonde was deeply aware she couldn’t lose her only form of employment. 

She didn’t give two shits about herself; what she truly wanted was to raise her baby right before he forgot her.

 

As she clocked in and walked to her register, she gave a grunt acknowledging Stacie, and the brunette manager huffed at her but said no more. 

 

Of course the silence got old quickly.

 

And, of course, so did Emily’s playing with the overhead speaker.

 

Stacie stamped her foot like a five year old and narrowed her eyes, her many smiley face pins and welcome sticks jostling on her apron. “Will you stop that already? I thought you’d learned quite enough from the happenings of yesterday.”

 

Emily stood to her full height; even in plain tennis shoes she was tall, and she felt a glimmer of satisfaction at Stacie’s gulp of nervousness. 

“What happenings? You mean calling my fucking roommate like I’m a naughty kindergarten? How did you even get my house number anyway?”

 

Stacie gulped. “I had no choice,  _ Emily _ . Your parole officer gave it to me. It’s procedure, you idiot.” She shook her head, her badly highlighted brunette streaks moving with her.

 

“I don’t understand how a  _ mother _ , of all people, would have trouble abiding the law when they have a child to think of.”

 

Emily clenched her fists on the counter and stared at the scars on her knuckles. She was used to fighting, used to defending herself; not everything in this world was right.

 

But Stacie was.

 

_ I don’t understand. _

 

_ I don’t understand. _

 

_ I don’t understand. _

 

The blonde wasn’t proud of herself; how could she be? 

Her kid was gone,  _ her son _ , because she had fucked up. 

Beyond fucked up, and she hated herself for it, and she didn’t understand that part of her.

 

She vaguely heard Stacie calling her name, but she wasn’t interested in conversation anymore. 

Emily slammed open the cash register and started counting her change. 

 

It was going to be a long day.


	3. Sorry Not Sorry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I’m pumping these out like crazy haha. Now there are a few disclaimers for this chapter, and a few parts of the story I want to clear up. Stephanie is a bit darker in this story. I wanted to take a more disturbing take on the deaths of Davis and Chris; obviously I needed a bit of a divergence from canon because Emily isn’t close to Stephanie at all right now. Also, let me know what you think of Carol, I felt like this chapter needed a character that served as catalyst for Stephanie’s emotions.
> 
> Speaking of emotions, this is a very very slow burn story. Two out of three chapters so far serve as exposition, and it takes awhile for them to leave the store. Another disclaimer; this is not a happy story and I can’t guarantee the ending will be, either. So if this isn’t your style, that’s cool, and if it is, enjoy and please please leave kudos and comments! They are much appreciated!

The silver Subaru lurched into the driveway nearly crushing the flower bed planted so delicately next to a mailbox hand painted with bees that read, “Welcome to our Hive!” on the side. 

_ That was cute. A few years ago,  _ Stephanie thought. 

 

Stephanie adjusted her makeup and blouse, trying to make sure neither her son nor mother would be able to tell that she’d been drinking all day in an abandoned parking lot near their house. 

 

Of course, her mother chose that moment to knock, rather harshly, on the driver's side window. Her hazel eyes shone with disgust and anger. 

“Where have you been all day?  _ I _ had to pick Miles up from school.  _ I  _ had to. Is there a reason for that?”

 

Stephanie had to school her features into the old, happy-go-lucky woman she used to be. “I was volunteering at the animal shelter and lost track of time, mom. A few of the other parents and I thought it might be nice to consider the safety of the area so we could organize a field trip.”

 

The brunette held her breath until her mother smiled, the wrinkles around her eyes scrunching with love and relief. “Oh, Stephanie. You should have called, sweetheart! But at least you were doing something that was worth your time.” 

She sniffed haughtily and crossed her arms over her chest, her cat adorned necklaces shaking with her. 

“Unlike that trip, you took to that dump of a grocery store. Why would you travel so far out of your way, and somewhere so...unsavory?”

 

Stephanie was itching in her seat at this point. The brunette needed a quick aspirin before she saw her son, who she needed to spend time with. 

Plus her “water” bottle was out of vodka. If she was going to get through tonight’s dinner with her mother, she needed all the alcohol she could get. 

Stephanie rolled her eyes. “You might find out if you’d let me out of my car,  _ Carol.” _

 

The larger woman scoffed but moved back all the same.

“Don’t you get a tone with me, Stephanie. Besides, you promised to recall your “adventure” to that horrid store. And I prefer we have this conversation outside. We don’t need to subject Miles to any more trauma than he has already experienced.”

 

Stephanie gritted her teeth and clenched her fists. If she could lay into her mother, oh  _ fuck  _ yeah she would.

 

_ But you can’t, Stephanie,  _ she reminded herself.  _ Miles needs his family.  _

_ So what if his family consists of a near alcoholic widow and an overbearing, too-much-makeup wearing grandmother? _

 

_ I mean, we’re family, right? _

 

Stephanie sighed.

 

_ But not the family he deserves. _

 

She ran her hand through her hair in exasperation. “I just needed to get away for a bit. Sometimes, you just need to drive on your own to the middle of nowhere, and if you find civilization, good for you. It’s a good way to escape grief, even for just a few hours.”

 

Her mother’s eyes softened a bit, but she said nothing. “All right, dear. I understand, slightly.”

 

Stephanie sighed with a small glimmer of relief.

 

“Just do it somewhere else next time.”

 

Why did Stephanie expect anything else?”

 

xxxxx

 

Regardless of how she felt or how she changed, nothing would lessen Stephanie’s love for her son.

The minute she walked in the door and hung her purse on the Mickey Mouse coat rack, the pounding of little boy tennis shoes thundered her way.

 

“Mom, mom, mom! You’re home!”

 

Stephanie relished in the smell of Miles’ hair when he jumped into her arms. 

She kissed the top of his forehead and ruffled his curly hair. “Did you have a good day at school, smooch?”

 

Miles screwed up his face. “Ew, mom that nicknames for babies.” Her son puffed out his chest and said, rather seriously, “I’m five years old, now.”

 

Stephanie grinned at her son's posture. “Well, then, you’re practically an adult,” she said seriously. Miles smiled at her, his missing front teeth gaping. “Yup.” 

He jumped up to his feet before she could remind him that his shoes were untied. “Grama already made supper for us, so we better hurry.”

 

Stephanie stiffened as she stood and glared at her mother, who was reorganizing the shoe cubby even though it was perfectly fine. 

“Carol,” she spoke, irritably. Her mother stood up, looking much too innocent. “Why, whatever is the matter, dear?”

 

Stephanie growled and shoved Miles’ backpack that he dropped into her chest. “You know what I’m talking about. I can cook dinner just as well as you, the majority of my blog consists of my cooking. You could have waited, mom.” She glared even harder. 

“You may be his grandmother, but Miles is  _ my  _ son, and I can make dinner for us every day of the week and twice on Sunday.”

 

Stephanie was surprised by her mother’s next reaction. She had never seen her so angry.

 

“Who says you can care for him at all? Blood means nothing when you can’t be a halfway decent mother.” She shook her head. “Davis would be so disappointed in you.”

 

Before Stephanie could defend herself, she added one last blow.

 

“And so would Chris; don’t think I don’t know what happened there, because I have eyes,  _ daughter.  _ I know who Miles  _ really  _ belongs to, and if you care about his opinion, then you’ll teach his son right.”

 

The brunette quickly deflated. She couldn’t argue with that. What could she say to that now? 

 

_ Not much _ , she reflected.

 

Her mother smirked, knowing she had won this battle. She walked by, squeezing Stephanie’s shoulder a little too hard. “Dinners on the table, darling. Be there in exactly five minutes.”

 

Stephanie sighed. The portly, older woman loved to give her time limits on simple tasks just so she could accuse her daughter of being untimely and lazy. 

Stephanie stopped giving a shit quite a few years ago, and simply took whatever time she could afford. 

 

No matter how much Carol emphasized a clean house, nothing could prevent Iron Man and Captain American from battling it out on the stairs, or the Millennium Falcon and the ill-fated Challenger racing upwards towards space. 

Every step had to be calculated and careful, otherwise Stephanie would have been stabbed in the foot by a LEGO a very, very long time ago.

 

She found it rather endearing that there were stickers on the walls and shoes everywhere.

 

But Stephanie needed the upstairs bathroom to herself, if not to cry to herself and think for a bit. 

She made careful not to slam the door in frustration as she locked herself into the master bathroom, the second person using it being the one who didn’t deserve it.

 

The brunette walked over to her messy sink and grabbed a cloth from the towel rack to wipe her makeup off. She’d never liked it, but if she wanted to pass as a functional person, she needed it. 

 

She tried not to scrub too hard and ended up doing it anyway, as if she were trying to clean some part of her that would remain filthy for the rest of her life.

 

Stephanie embraced the stars behind her eyes as she shoved the rough fabric onto her face, wondering if there was any part of her life that she could blame on someone else, wondering if there was anything in this world that she wasn’t at fault for. 

 

_ You know that’s not true _ .

 

Stephanie sighed at the voice in her head.

 

_ I know. _

 

She looked in the mirror in front of her, embarrassed at the fact that she couldn’t even bring a single tear to her eye.

 

_ I care! I should be able to feel that! Why can’t I? _

 

Stephanie wondered where that part of her went; her emotional side, the cheerful one, the one that somehow drove her to owning a helium tank. 

Of course she put on a face for others and her viewers, but not on her own.

 

Stephanie could barely recognize herself anymore. She had always wanted to know the answer to her age old question

 

_ What happened to me? _

 

Suddenly, for no reason whatsoever, she thought of the blonde from the grocery store a few days ago.

 

_ Emily. _

 

She wondered about her; why she was there, who she was, and, perhaps the most important question of all; why was she the way she was?

 

Stephanie clearly didn’t know any of the things.

 

But she wanted to know.

 

_ Screw life. I’m headed to that store tomorrow. _

  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
